The Lost Time
by Barriers of Time
Summary: There are legends were the hero travels through time to change history. But what if the villain gets this second chance, too? Like, should we say, Galbatorix himself.
1. Prolog

This is my first fanfiction. At the beginning a little warning: English isn't my first language. Nevertheless, I hope you like it.

Disclaimer: I don't own the inheritance cycle

* * *

Black Shadows consumed him.

He was dead.

He lost the battle against a simple-minded rube. It should have had been his great victory. Not theirs. Not the one of this so-called freedom fighters. Of this damned rebellion.

Everything was planned down to the smallest detail. Through him Alagaësia should have gotten real piece. No more were the magic a treat to humanity and the dragons could rise anew. Naturally, only under his command.

It would have been perfect. But no, this fool Mutagh had to intervene with his plan. But he also understood something through his defeat. Way too long had he not seen the Varden as serious enemies. Way too long had he only sat before his desk and had his servants do the important tasks. And finally, way too long had he ignored the external districts of his empire.

How much would have been different if the how and when had been right? How much he could have done differently a few years ago? He would be happy to find out.

"Is this your wish?"

A blinding white light made the shadows disappear.

Like everyone else he had tried to to imagine the death – not that he had thought he would ever die. But this was ridiculous. Since when do you ask the dead what they wanted.

"Who is there?", he yelled to the light. "Answer me!"

But it ignored his question. "Is this your wish? Are you sure?"

He was the king. How could it dare to ignore him?

At the other side, this could be the answer to his question.

"Yes. It's my wish."

"So be it."

Yes. This time it will be different. This time he will be the victor.


	2. A new start

Humans.

Like ants they cavorted in the streets of the city. Always in search of pleasure, exclusive goods or just after a few coins. Ignorant they went about their daily life. Not knowing that this city should equal a battlefield in almost a decade. But he won't let it come so far. Not this time.

Galbatorix turned away from the large window of his study. The room was decorated with fine tapestries, which illustrated his greatest victories. Where no rugs hang, shelves were filled to the brim with books of different origin. Some of them older than himself. From the door a blood-red carpet led to a desk.

Papers were on him. Executions. They only lacked a signature.

Over the next few weeks there would be a lot of change. First, the traitors and unconventional thinkers would be taken out of service. Even though some of them already knew of the – as he called it – 'sorting out' and were now on the run. But that did not matter. He would get them. In one way or another.

His office was deep inside the castle. Protected from attacks – not that there will soon be somebody who could defy him. In addition, it was quiet here. But these were not the only reasons. Another was that he not only had a view of the city, but also on the dragon's hoard.

Dragons.

That will also change soon.

Someone knocked. A man with a tray in his hand came in and bowed. "Forgive the interruption, sire. I bring you your tea and some biscuits." Roland was one of his few truly loyal servant. And a good spy. He listened to the gossip in the castle and the city and reported the troublemakers to his king.

When Roland had finished to put the tea and biscuits on the desk he turned back to Galbatorix. "Do you want anything else?"

While Galbatorix was busy with the documents, he replied: "Yes. Bring Durza to me."

Roland bowed and went on his way out the door.

"Oh, Roland and one more thing." Roland turned to face the king. Said king had a diabolical smile on his lips.

"Tell Murtagh I want to see him."

"As you wish, sire."

* * *

"You wanted to see me." It wasn't a question.

Before his desk stood a man with red hair and yellow eyes. Feared all over the country by both enemies and allies. But he would come back on it again later. At the moment they had to take care of more important things.

"Yes. Do you remember the blue dragon egg, which we have lost a few years ago?"

Durzas face remained neutral. No signs of emotion.

"Of course, sir. How you have applied it to me, I'm looking for the whereabouts of the egg." Unfortunately, without success.

"Then it should interest you that the egg is on its way to the Varden. And it is delivered by a particular elf."

"Then it should interest you that the egg is on its way to the Varden. And it is delivered by a particular elf." How could the elves transport the precious egg unnoticed for so long?

"I want you to bring it back to me. Kill all who cross your path. Except for the elf that will have the egg. I want her alive. Do you understand that?"

"Rely on me, sir. The egg will soon be back in your possession and the Elves will have a few less people."

He bowed slightly and left. Excitement and madness was to read in his eyes.

* * *

In front of the king was a twelve year old child. Black hair fell into his face as he bowed. As if he didn't want to see him in the eye.

"You have summoned me, my Lord?" It was clear that the boy wanted to quickly put the matter behind him.

"Yes, Murtagh. Do you remember when I told you about the dragons? You wanted to have a dragon and then fight in my name in Alagaësia for law and order. I have decided that it is now time to test you.", the king said generously.

But Murtagh seemed less than enthusiastic. Almost shocked. "But you cannot do that", he exclaimed. Strange.

"And why not?" Asked the king, now irritated.

"Because, uh ... yeah because, … ", Murtagh tried to explain, but to no avail.

"Could it possibly be that you know of a couple of events that would have occurred in a few years?", came the now sweet voice of the king.

Now it was dangerous. His eyes searched for the door. More or less five meters. Would he make it? But before he could continue to think about his escape, Galbatorix spoke again. And he looked at him with a smile, which guarantees nothing good for him.

"If this is so, then this will definitely awake a lot of memories."

* * *

A few hours later Galbatorix and Murtagh were standing before the huge gate. They waited for a few servants to load the coach.

An oppressive atmosphere prevailed around the small group because it was too late. The sign of the dragon rider coined Murtagh palm. In his arms was a little red dragon. Once again bounded to the king he so hated. It was heartbreaking. Still, he took all his courage together again and asked the question that was now for some time on his soul.

"Where are we going anyway?"

The king looked him condescending in the eyes. "We will visit an old friend." He spoke the word 'friend' as if it were a contagious disease.

After a few minutes the coach was ready for departure.

"Where will it go, my Lord?"

And again there was the insane smile of the king. Murtagh swallowed hard.

"Carvahall."


	3. Fire in the Village

Fire in the Village

The sky over the Spine was slowly immersed in a warm orange. The trees cast long shadows and ever also the animals retreated to their hiding places. A gentle breeze blew through the ankle-high grass.

The elders used to say things like: "The Spine is dangerous!" and "Don't go near it!" But Eragon did like the Spine anyway. He may be dangerous, but only if you are not careful.

And Eragon knew how to get act here. He was after all for four years repeatedly sneaking into the Spine. The first time he was five years old. He didn't like speaking of the experience of those days. But he survived it and saw it as a challenge now to climb the mountain again. Because only a few people dared to even come close to the Spine it was also his refuge.

In the tree in front of him a X was visible. This was his goal.

Slowly he stretched the string of his small bow . As Eragon was sure that the force would be enough to hit the tree with the arrow, he let go. The arrow rushed toward the tree.

The arrow found its target. Unfortunately it was not the center of the scribed X. Although it was only a close miss, but that was also over. Well, maybe next time.

Eragon ran to the tree and pulled the arrow out of it. But the arrow refused to come out of the tree Eragon sighed, braced one foot against the tree and pulled again This time the arrow popped out as if it had been rubbed with oil

The boy landed on his back Only now when he looked to the sky , he realized that it was already evening. He should bring Horst still a basket of vegetables, because he had repaired their table. Damn it! Eragon stood up and smoothed his pants.

The arrow disappeared in a quiver on his back, the bow hung above it. The bow was his favorite. Although he had already fought with a little wooden sword, but it was so boring. When he was older, he would be learning to deal with a real sword and go out into the world to seek adventure.

With the basket for Horst in hand, Eragon turned on his way back to Carvahall.

Even at this hour, many villagers were traveling. To complet last errands yet. Eragon heard loud shouts and laughter. The tavern was full.

Horst was still in his forge. Albriech was with him. Horst was working on a piece of iron, but when he saw Eragon, he put his hammer on the ground and raised his arm in greeting.

"Well, if that is not Eragon. How are you? "

"Evening, Horst, Albriech." Eragon greeted back. Albriech nodded, but immediately focused on his work again.

"What are you doing here so late, Eragon? Do you take care of something for Garrow? ", asked Horst him.

"More or less.", said Eragon, holding the basket towards the blacksmith . "As a thank you for the table the other day."

Horst took the basket. "Would not have been necessary. But thanks." Horst pointed at Eragon's bow and arrows. "Were probably still hunting. The Spine I suppose?" Eragon nodded. "Be careful, nodded ... I suppose you killed nothing. Wait here. I'll give you some meat along the way."

But Eragon rejected by saying that Garrow would not accept anything for free. Not even by friends. That was like to accept alms. Horst shook his head and smiled. They both said goodbye to each.

Eragon was on his way home.

Repeatedly villagers ran past him with buckets full of water. They seemed to be in panic. Strange. As Eragon saw where they ran to he knew why. It smelled burnt. Smoke rose not far away from him into the sky. But there was only one house in the direction. Brom's house.

Eragon ran behind the men with the buckets. Brom was closer to him than many other residents of the village. Eragon would also help.

The house was literally on fire. It was attempted to erase the fire as quickly as possible. Eragon walked toward Gertrude, who stood anxiously in the crowd.

"Gertrude, where is Brom?"

The healer looked at him briefly, then pointed to the burning house.

Eragon ran - under calls, saying him to come back - in the house. He knew it was crazy, but he felt that he could not let Brom just die.

Brom was under an overturned bookcase. He groaned as he saw Eragon. "What are you doing here, Eragon?"

"Saving your life!" Eragon lifted the shelf at full force. It was not much, but enough so that Brom could creep under the shelf. Now Eragon saw why Brom could not break free alone. He had a deep wound in the chest.

Shocked Eragon supported Brom on the way out and handed him to Getrude. "Be careful, Eragon.", whispered Brom to him as he went along with Getrude.

Still a bit shocked by the events of the day, Eragon went home after helping to delete the fire.

On the farm the light was still on. That was very unusual at that time. When he came to the door, he immediately realized the reason. A man with black hair looked to him.

They had visitors.


	4. The Strangers

**The Strangers**

Eragon slowly walked across the vegetable fields, pulled here and there on one or another stem. Maybe something was already ripe? He had, however, not very high hopes.

Now and then the boy poked small holes with a stick in the ground. Eragon found the stick near the forest along with Roran two years ago. The two imagined that the sticks were swords and then fought each other with them.

One was a knight of the king, the other a warrior of the Varden. When Eragon got to choose who is who, he fell into a dilemma. Normally, you want to fight for the king. For the people. So much knew Eragon. The soldiers in the village reported always about their exploits and of the dreadful acts of the rebels. But then why had Eragon doubts regarding the site in battle?

He could not help it, but fell a strange feeling when the Varden were mentioned and thought: "What a bullshit!" He had never been outside the village - apart of his occasional trips to the Spine.

Eragon sighed. He was also very concerned about Brom. This clearly was an attack. But who would do such a thing? They could impossible have a traitor in their small village community. Granted, Brom was not very popular, but still.

And then there were these strangers, who would live from now on for a few days with them. The elder of the two - a seemingly still quite a young man - had talked with Garrow about the war with the Varden. Strange, Garrow gave him right in everything. As if he was afraid of the strangers.

He also told them from is journeys. As Eragon said that he would like to travel too, he offered him to take him on his next trip. Eragon politely refused, but the man told him to think it over again. Certainly he would change his mind again.

"Hey, Eragon!"

He turned around. Roran came running toward him. He came to a stop close by his brother's side. Grinning, he raised his hands and showed Eragon two bows and quivers with some arrows.

"You want to go hunting?", Eragon asked in disbelief and folded his arms across his chest. "You don't even like the Spine. You're usually thinking that it is way too dangerous."

Roran looked at him offended. "Now you hurt my feelings, Eragon. I was also hunting a few times with you. But yes, I think that the Spine is dangerous. Especially for children. "

"And why do you want to gp then?", asked Eragon, now a little upset to know.

"It's because ... well, you know ...", stuttered Roran.

Eragon raised an eyebrow. "What do I know, Roran?"

The older one sighed. "It is because of these stranger. I do not know if you've got the notice, but the two stare at us all the time. Like eagles their prey. "

Eragon nodded. Last night he had already felt watched. It was scary. He almost wanted to sleep in the barn to escape the looks. "Who do you think they are?"

Roran looked at him perplexed. "No idea. But according to the clothes I would say that they are rich. And everyone knows that rich people usually look for a room in a hostel, but not on a farm."

"Well, we cannot do anything about it now anyway. Come on, let's go. "

Just as Roran and Eragon wanted to leave the property, the boy from yesterday came after them. He had introduced himself as Murtagh. Murtagh had a bow with him, too. Speak of the devil.

"Can I come with you?", asked Murtagh them.

Eragon and Roran exchanged a few glances with each other, before they said "all right". Then the now bigger group went to the Spine.

* * *

"Wow, you're really good, Murtagh.", marveled Eragon and Roran. Murtagh had killed his third deer. He led the bow, as he would do it for years. And he was only about two years older than Eragon.

"It's all a matter of practice.", said the black-haired boy.

Roran smiled. "Really,", he said, went to the nearest tree and broke off one of the lower branches. Now he held the road in front of his body protectively. "How does it look with the sword?"

"Wanna find out?" Murtagh laughed and made it like Roran. After both of them had a 'sword', they had started to duel. Murtagh was at a clear advantage and disarmed Roran after only a few minutes.

Roran lay panting on the ground, while Murtagh was still standing. Unlike Roran Murtagh apparently had a much greater endurance. "Where'd you learn that?" Eragon came to them.

"I come from the capital. There you learn how to handle a sword in school."

"Is it nice there? In the capital, I mean?"

"It's...okay.", replied Murtagh. "What about you? Would you like to live in the capital? "

"Well, it would certainly be exciting to live there ..." began Roran, then looked at Eragon and knew he was thinking the same thought. "... but this is our home."

"That's nice to hear." Murtagh smiled. It looked sad.

* * *

Shortly afterwards the three boys were back in the village. The streets were swept empty. Even the shop owners had left their places behind the counter. Instead, they were all gathered in the village square. Single fragments of a conversation reached Eragon's ear. Someone seemed to proclaim something.

As they approached the circle of villagers, Eragon saw Brom at the edge. He was detained by soldiers. He did not look particularly good. The wound made him appear to be set up.

Eragon wanted to go over and demand of the soldiers to have Brom released, but Murtagh grabbed him by the shoulder and shook his head. "He has probably attacked the king."

"The K-K-King?", Eragon brought out in surprise. He looked again at the man in the circle. Suddenly he felt great fear and panic. He just wanted to get away, but Roran pulled him forward.

"... wagon loaded with rich goods will be here in a few days. And as a special sign of my kindness, I'll take two of your children with me, for which they only receive the best education." He looked at Eragon and pa grin laid on his lips.

If that was a sign of goodness of the king, it would do good for the village. It certainly was better not to annoy the king then. Eragon swallows hard.

And the glorious future gradually began to dissolve.


	5. The Ambush

**The Ambush**

The landscape changed painfully slow. With a dragon they could have progressed much faster, but they were a group of ten people. Four passengers, two carriage and four guards on horses rode in pairs next to the two coaches.

A pair of eyes were looking nervously out of the window of the carriage, when they were not busy staring at him angrily.

Murtagh tried to dodge the looks as often as possible. This worked, but not always. The reason for the behavior of his counterpart was clear. After all, Murtagh was somehow to blame, that the two of them were sitting here now. That Eragon's eyes sparkled angry at him. And that Roran were stuck in the coach in front of them.

Together with Galbatorix. Murtagh did not even want to imagine just what was going on there. The megalomaniac king had said the night before that he wanted to have a serious conversation with Roran. Whatever seriously meant in his vocabulary.

Until now, three days had passed since they had left Carvahall and you saw Eragon's and Roran's anger significantly.

Pretty funny anyway. Was not he the one who always wondered how it would have been like to grow up in Uru'baen along with Eragon? Well, now that it was time, Murtagh found that the situation wasn't funny at all.

Only a few days ago, he thought it was finally over. No mad king, no bondage, no nothing. Only the sweet freedom. How wrong he had been. He wondered if there were others except him and Galbatorix in this time that new of the future.

He glanced out of the corner of his eye to Eragon. Eragon looked straight out of the window. No, his half-brother didn't know. And after the recent events Roran probably not, too.

If only he knew how Galbatorix had don his newest magic trick. He had been sure that the king was dead. Murtagh sighed. Actually, everything should now be better, instead, they were back at square one. That was so depressing.

Again he felt Eragon's angry gaze on him.

"Listen. I'm sorry that I have not told you. How often do you want to hear it from me, before you stop to stare at me like that? Meanwhile, I've also figured out that you're upset, but go and do that to someone else.", snapped Murtagh finally.

Eragon raised an eyebrow, as he wanted to say, what a stupid question that was. "As long as it is necessary, Murtagh. As long as it is necessary." That was all Eragon had to say on the subject.

So had been going on since their departure. Murtagh was now a little bit annoyed. No matter what, he had to try to keep a clear head. And he should see that he got Eragon and Roran on his side. Maybe it would not be so bad to contact the Varden. With luck, there was someone whose memories were not from this time period.

Before them rose, slowly, in the orange light of the sunset the castle of Uru'baen. It's time to get to work.

* * *

Aria did not know what to make of this. First: Her dragon was gone and she could no longer connect him. But given the situation that was the least of her problems.

Second: She rode through the forest again. Guards flanked her.

The third and most important problem: In her saddlebag she saw Saphira's egg shining in the light of the moon.

The whole thing felt like a déjà vu. Yes, it was definitely weird. Where was Eragon?

Aria had certainly heard of such time magic - if this really was time travel. But mostly only in old fairy tales. But she had never believed that such a thing was possible. Now she had to come up with something. Would it be better to travel to Carvahall first? Or to the Varden?

But Aria didn't come any further, when an arrow pierced the leg of her horse, which resulted in her horse falling over to the side. Aria responded quickly and jumped. Urgals came out of the bushes with Durza in their midst. Her guards rose quickly from their horses and drew their swords.

Something is wrong here, thought Aria. This is not the same place as last time. Aria now drew her own sword. No matter what. She would defend Saphira. Cost it what it may.

Durza set the forest on fire around them and grinned at Aria with this grimace that she could even stand in her real time. But there was something else in his eyes and Aria knew it immediately. This was not the same Durza, with whom she crossed swords once.

Through her training from the - alleged - future, the Urgals present weren't a big problem for her. But now she were separated from her comrades through a wall of fire. Likewise, from the horse, where the dragon egg was still lying.

Aria could not explain why, but since she woke up here, she felt drained. So it would be a suicide mission to fight against Durza. And when she was dead, she couldn't help the Varden.

There was no other choice. Just as she had done it with Saphira's egg, she tried it now on herself. Aria gathered her last remnants of magical power and spoke the words that would lead her away from here. She disappeared in a blue light.


	6. Decisions

**Decisions**

Nasuada was certainly not stupid. If it was different, she wouldn't have led the Varden after he father's dead in the first place.

By her position within the Varden, particularly against the Empire, she had already seen a lot and even more survived. The only time in which she had doubted was the time of her capture. But Nasuada overcame these. After all, she had even hurt herself on her own arms with a sword for her goal. Not that it could be seen anymore.

But this was different. This was something that made her really scared and could make her simultaneously jumping for joy.

In a moment, Nasuada was discussing over the future of the Kingdom with her allies and the next she was before her father - in the form of a much younger body.

To see her father – her dead father actually – again, had been a shock to the young leader.

Both Ajihad and Jörmundur noticed Nasuadas stiffened posture. They were in a war meeting, as Nasuada emerged. Since Ajihad could not get away because of the meeting, Jörmundur escorted her outside. Or as outside as somebody could be in a mountain.

Nasuada saw many familiar faces on their stroll through Farthen Dûr. Faces of those she once believed to never see again. But there was also so many people missing to who she had become accustomed in the recent months.

King Orin, Arya and Orik the dwarf king. Sure, Jörmundur was still by her side - though not quite as usual as in the last months - but what about Eragon and Saphira? Where was her brave friend and his dazzling dragon lady?

Deep in thought, Nasuada stopped walking and stared upward. About her shone the _Isidar Mithrim_, the star sapphire. Or at least the first version of the stone.

"What's going on?", Nasuada whispered helplessly.

Jörmundur has stopped as well next to the daughter of his leader, and asked what she had just said.

Nasuada was startled and jumped. She had completely forgotten Jörmundur. "Nothing," Her consultant-to-be looked at her incredulously. She was not the type of person who would forget the world and drift off. Especially in such dangerous times.

She had to find out what had happened. Moreover, this war was bad enough the first time around. Nasuada don't really want to live through it a second time. But to find out what happened, she had to get acquainted with the current situation beforehand.

"Say, Jörmundur, that meeting, what was it about?"

Jörmundur folded his arms across his chest. His expression took on a disturbing form.

"I guess you'll hear it soon anyway." He sighed. "A few days ago a group of elves were attacked by a trupp of the King, who were commissioned to carry the egg to Du Weldenvarden from the Beor Mountains for us. We found no survivors, and ... ", he paused briefly, " ... the egg is lost."

_Oh no, Saphira!_, thought Nasuada. This is worse than bad. Then Nasuada remembered something. Didn't Aray always bring over Saphira's egg? She closed her hands tightly together, so her nails dug into her skin.

"What's with the elf Arya? She does always accompany the transfer. Is ... is she dead, too?, she squeezed out.

"To be honest, we don't know. There is no trace of her. "

Nasuada breathed in relief. At least Arya escaped.

But what now? She closed her eyes.

Nasuada knew only one thing for sure: she must not fail here. Perhaps this was a second chance. She opened her eyes again. Instead of the first confusion was now only determination visible.

And maybe – really maybe - this time so many don't have to die for their victory.

* * *

Eragon would prefer to scream in frustration, but he left it with a blow to the bed. Someone might hear it.

The trip to Uru'baen lasted four days without intermission. As soon as they arrived at the court of the palace, servants rushed to them, who would bring Eragon and Roran to their new rooms. Where he is stuck now.

Eragon slumped on the bed. His life made a big change and that without his permission. Despite his behavior in the coach he did not really blame Murtagh. Nobody could defend themselves against the King.

But then there was also Brom, who was captured. Eragon felt that something went quite wrong and shouldn't really be that way. As if someone had recorded the history of the world, demolished quite a large part of it and replaced it with their own idea.

Eragon laughed softly to himself. This, of course, wasn't quite possible. He sat back up straight.

But it was still strange. Why had the King appeared so suddenly in Carvahall? Why had a King stayed on their small farm? Why were Roran and he brought to the capital. There were cleverer children. And the greatest mystery of them all: why does it seem as if Murtagh knew them both already.

Eragon got the feeling that he slowly started to ask the right questions.

He got out of bed and went to the window. The sun had set a few hours ago and the moon shone high in the sky. For a moment, he saw a huge shadow that even covered the moon. He disappeared almost immediately. Eragon rubbed his eyes. That was strange.

The city was bathed in twilight. At night, the city looked more threatening than at daytime. How he did know that he could not say, after all, he had not yet seen the city in daylight.

A knock on the door. A servant came in and bowed before him. A new experience for the boy. "King Galbatorix expects you to dinner. If you would follow me." Then the servant was already in motion and left the room. Eragon followed him.

Something was absolutely not right and he was determined to find out what it was.


End file.
